


Good to the Last Drop

by BrighteyedJill



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Science, Erotic Electrostimulation, Fucking Machines, Gags, HYDRA Trash Party, Humiliation, Just generally things that are dubious, M/M, Masturbation, Milking, Multi, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Prostate Massage, Prostate Milking, Restraints, Science Experiments, Slut Shaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 03:16:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17357906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighteyedJill/pseuds/BrighteyedJill
Summary: After Dr. Erskine's death, the SSR races to unlock the secret of the formula so they can duplicate his success. Steve's genetic material may just hold the key. The only challenge is gathering a sufficient volume of that genetic material, but the SSR is nothing if not resourceful, and they're not particularly concerned for the comfort of the subject of their experiments.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for they Hydra Trash Meme. Thanks to the dumpster dwellers there for the encouragement.

They’d taken more than a dozen blood draws from Steve’s big new body, and the holes in his skin had healed up right before his eyes. But the team of scientists, without Erskine now, made frustrated noises over their microscopes. 

Steve sat on an exam table, cooling his heels and wishing he had a set of pastels so he could draw the lab in all the colors he could now see, when Stark walked up to a scientist who was staring morosely at a vial of Steve’s blood and said, “Have you tested his little swimmers?”

They sent him off to a private room, a sterilized glass jar in his hands and a blush on his face. Steve figured out soon enough that this new body was more than strong and fast; it was sensitive. He’d known how to get himself off efficiently, of course, but now every touch felt different-- more, somehow. Perhaps it was being able to see and hear and smell so clearly, or perhaps it was the lack of distraction from sore joints and labored breathing, or perhaps the formula had simply allowed Steve to process every detail of the experience so that the sensations and feelings overwhelmed him all the sooner. It didn’t take him long at all to provide the first sample.  
\--

“First we’ll observe your usual procedure,” Dr. Schroeder said. “Then we’ll try to make it more efficient.”

Steve sat naked on an exam table with his hand on his soft cock and three doctors staring at him. When the scientists had complained this week that they were receiving an insufficient quantity of genetic material-- as much as Steve could comfortably produce on his own in the course of a day’s work-- Steve had merely thought he’d have more hours of personal impurity to atone for at his next confession. But the leaders of the Strategic Scientific Reserve were putting their best minds to the problem. 

“Begin when you’re ready,” Schroeder said. 

Steve gave his dick an encouraging squeeze, but it remained limply uninterested. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath, determined to pretend he was alone. With his new, sharper sense, however, he couldn’t block out the sound of the other men breathing, or the scratch of their pencils as they recorded notes on the session. 

Steve needed to concentrate on something else. What did he usually think about when he touched himself quietly under the blankets in his narrow bed back in Brooklyn? Unbidden, the image sprang to mind of Bucky, stripped to the waist on a hot August afternoon, sitting in the window of their apartment with his lips wrapped around a cigarette. Steve’s cock gave an interested twitch, but then a cold stab of fear doused any spark of arousal. A furious flush stained Steve’s cheeks as he wondered if the doctors watching him could tell what he was thinking of. 

When Steve opened his eyes, they all appeared as blandly attentive as before. “Sorry,” he muttered, dropping his eyes to the floor. “It’s not usually this difficult.”

Dr. Keller nodded. “It’s not unusual to have some performance anxiety in a situation like this. Would you like some assistance?”

Steve blinked at him. “What kind of assistance do you mean, sir?”

“There’s a type of glandular massage that can help some men reach orgasm.” Keller’s voice sounded as calm and dry as if he were describing any old medical procedure. “Would you like to try?”

“All right,” Steve said slowly. He didn’t think he was likely to make much progress on his own, not with other people watching him. Anything would be better than sitting here with them watching him like a zoo animal.

“Stand up, then.” Keller had Steve face the exam table and lean over it slightly, bracing one arm against the edge while he stroked himself with the other. Steve was starting to suspect he might know what kind of “massage” Killer meant. 

“This may feel strange at first, but just try to relax.” Keller stepped behind Steve, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then Steve felt a cold, wet touch between his ass cheeks, and jerked away. 

“None of that, now. Hold still.” Keller grabbed Steve by the hip, just like Bucky did when he-- no, Steve was not thinking about that. 

Keller’s slick finger pressed against at Steve’s hole, and Steve tried to relax. This shouldn’t be difficult, not physically, anyway, now that he was nearly indestructible. But much as Steve wanted to think of nothing at all, it seemed impossible. If he closed his eyes, all he could imagine was that he was back at home with Bucky, leaning over the kitchen table with his legs spread apart. Of course, he’d been shorter then. Bucky had never gotten to play with Steve’s new body. 

Keller applied more pressure, pushing his finger into Steve and holding it there. Steve concentrated on breathing, and on making sure he didn’t push back against Keller, demanding more. Steve wasn’t certain when he’d become hard, but his cock had certainly gotten on board, and Steve’s hand moved almost of its own volition, firmly stroking from root to tip. This was the point, Steve reminded himself. His duty was to show these men how he got himself off, so they could get the material they needed. That was all. 

Keller pressed forward then and curved his finger, and Steve had to bite back a gasp as his muscles contracted and his hips hitched involuntarily. 

“This seems to be having a positive effect,” Keller said. “Continue, Rogers.”

Steve wanted to obey, but there was nothing much to do but stand still and keep touching himself while Keller carried out the “glandular massage” that was making Steve’s muscular thighs start to tremble. Keller’s hand on his hip felt warm and firm, and Steve could almost hear Bucky’s sex-rough voice in his ear, urging him on.

“Sir,” Steve said urgently.

Dr. Mayer stepped up to hold a specimen jar below Steve’s cock, just beyond where Steve’s hand was working over the crown, glistening with pre-come. Then, with one more firm press of Keller’s finger, Steve shouted as he came, spurting into the jar. 

Steve let go of his now overly-sensitized cock to brace himself against the table and get his breath back. 

Mayer reached down to grasp Steve’s cock, making him start, and give it a firm shake to ensure that the last drops of semen were collected. Then he turned back to the others, holding the specimen jar aloft, and said, “This is a promising start.”

\--

“Step up here,” Dr. Schroeder ordered. Steve put first one foot, then the other, onto the narrow ledge of the vertical table. The doctor’s firm hand guided him forward until his chest was pressed against the evenly spaced metal slats that made up the table’s main surface. The leather cuffs they strapped around his hands were to keep him from dislodging the equipment, the doctors had explained. Now that he wasn’t performing his own manual stimulation, he didn’t need the use of his hands anyway. 

They’d also told him that his usual technique had resulted in an unacceptably high rate of sample contamination, and so the doctor had decided medical personnel should be in charge of collecting the samples from now on. Steve wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but Dr. Schroeder had told him repeatedly that he just needed to be still and relax. 

The pull of a lever sent the table tilting forward until Steve rested at a 45 degree angle. Dr. Schroeder pried Steve’s ass cheeks apart and began applying lubricant, as had become standard operating procedure. Then a nurse stepped into Steve’s line of sight, pushing a metal cart. She was a skinny thing, dark wavy hair down to her shoulders and wide brown eyes. She stopped before Steve and leaned down to arrange his cock and balls to dangle more conveniently between two of the table’s metal slats. 

Steve found himself frozen, hardly daring to breathe. No woman had ever touched him like that. As many times as Bucky had tried to set him up, he hadn’t wanted to make time with anyone aside from the gorgeous brunet he already lived with. 

Wetting a soft cloth in the basin on her cart, the nurse leisurely soaped up Steve’s genitals, then rinsed them with a few handfuls of water. By the time she had started to give him a thorough toweling off, Dr. Schroeder had begun the usual course of anal stimulation, and Steve’s cock had begun to swell. 

“You may proceed, nurse,” said Dr. Keller from a few feet away, where he stood with his clipboard taking notes. 

The nurse settled into a wooden chair that put her at a more convenient height beside the table. She swiped her fingers through the open jar of lubricant Dr. Schroeder had left out, then wrapped her small, delicate hand around Steve’s shaft and began administering quick, efficient strokes. 

Steve fixed his eyes on the far wall and tried not to think about anything at all. There was nothing sexual about this, Steve told himself. It was just another medical procedure, like having his temperature taken or his blood drawn. This wasn’t meant to be for Steve’s own prurient gratification. 

He snuck one glance down to see the nurse’s hand wrapped around his hard cock, and her other hand holding the specimen jar in place. Without meaning to, he met her eyes. She looked right back at him, continuing to stroke his cock while watching him with a satisfied smile playing at the corners of her lips. She twisted her hand around the head of Steve’s cock, starting a deep, agnonized moan from him. The half-smile grew into a delighted grin. She repeated the motion until Steve’s hips thrust helplessly forward against the table, trapped between that touch and the fingers inside him. 

Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want the nurse to keep staring at him with that look of a cat who’d spotted a mouse. And he shouldn’t have been looking at her in the first place; he was raised to be a gentleman. With his eyes closed, there was nothing to focus on except the sensation bombarding him: a relentless hand on his cock and the doctor’s fingers rubbing firmly and unerringly in the way that sent sparks dancing behind Steve’s eyes. He managed out stutter out a warning-- “I’m-I’m--” before his climax overtook him. 

The nurse gripped his cock tight, directing his semen right where she wanted it. After the last feeble twitch, she dropped him, and Dr. Schroeder removed his fingers. When Steve opened his eyes, all the personnel were huddled around a lab table at the far side of the room, watching the nurse pour the specimen into a graduated cylinder to measure the volume. 

Steve slumped against the table, stiff and uncomfortable, and acutely aware of his nudity and the slick, open feeling of his ass. Still, that was no reason to interrupt their procedure. He could be patient. 

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what Bucky was doing now, over there at the front. Maybe sitting in a camp somewhere with his friends--of course he’d made friends, everyone had always liked him. It was evening over there, wasn’t it? Perhaps Bucky was lying in a bunk somewhere, touching himself and thinking about some pretty girl. Wouldn’t he be surprised at Steve’s new role in the Army? That is, if Steve ever figured out how to explain what that was. 

Steve yelped as he was drawn back to awareness of his body by fingers being re-inserted into his ass. 

“Quiet, Rogers.” Dr. Schroeder delivered a swift smack to Steve’s ass, and pushed his fingers farther in. “Nurse, this time we’ll try varying the pace. Try to time your hand motions to coincide with mine.”

The nurse’s hand closed around Steve’s soft, sensitive cock, and they began again.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve should have known that the SSR would recruit Howard Stark to find the most modern, efficient method of getting what they needed from Steve.

A group of scientists and SSR bigwigs had gathered in the observation area for this demonstration. When Steve spotted Ms. Carter in the back, he had to duck his head so she wouldn’t make eye contact. It wasn’t that he was _ashamed_ to be doing what he was doing. Of course not! He’d said he was willing to do anything to help the war effort, and he’d keep doing his part. He just felt funny about a dame who wasn’t a nurse seeing him in this position.

While Stark glad-handed with guests on their way in, his assistants bustled around the room, preparing Steve for the procedure. One assistant, a kid in a lab coat who was almost as skinny as Steve had been, asked Steve to undress and guided him onto a metal table, which seemed shorter than it ought to be. A second assistant, this one a buxom nurse with her blonde hair perfectly coiffed, unfolded what looked like metal stirrups from the foot of the table and said, “Scoot forward, soldier. Just a little more. There we are.”

With Steve’s ass hanging right off the table, she pushed Steve’s legs into position so they were bent at the knee and spread. She used leather straps to secure his legs to the stirrups, which seemed to have been custom-made to fit him. As the other assistant began securing Steve with leather straps across his hips and shoulders and around his wrists, he found himself feeling kind of like a trussed-up turkey. Despite the oddity of the position, his cock seemed to recognize the situation as similar enough to what it been put through every day since Steve had gotten his new body, and know it would be called upon soon. When it started to stiffen, none of Stark’s assistants paid it any mind. They both went to adjust bright lights on rolling stands to better illuminate Steve’s body.

Another nurse-- the brunette with the wavy hair--stepped over holding a mysterious contraption that looked like a thick glass cylinder with a hose coming out of the top and some kind of rubber lining. She lifted Steve’s half-hard cock upright with one hand, and settled the device over it. She fiddled with some dials along the bottom of the thing, and the base contracted until it fit snugly around his cock. Steve was so engrossed in trying to puzzle out the function of that machine that he didn’t see the other nurse until her fingers, wet with lubricant, pushed into him instantly. He had only a moment to marvel at how familiar the sensation had become before Stark himself appeared at Steve’s side.

“So listen, pal,” Stark said. “In testing, some guys found it difficult to hold back their sounds of, uh, enthusiasm once the machine got up to speed. I’d rather not make any of the ladies present uncomfortable, so if you start losing control, we’re gonna have to gag you. No hard feelings, right?”

“Sure,” Steve said. He blushed thinking of some of the helpless moaning he’d done already in this lab. It seemed no matter how noble his intentions, he couldn’t help himself once he was teetering on the brink of orgasm. “Actually, sir, maybe we should do that to start with.”

“Sure, alright.” Stark spread his arms in a magnanimous show of acceptance. “You’re the boss, kid.” He waved to the assistant in the lab coat, who came forward with a stiff rubber cylinder about the diameter of a nickel. He guided Steve’s jaw open and slid the thing into place like a bit between a horse’s teeth. Straps seemed to be hooked over both ends, because he reached around the back of Steve’s head to fasten the thing snugly. Steve shifted his jaw experimentally, and was satisfied that the thing wasn’t going to fall out accidentally, or in fact until someone unstrapped it, as he wouldn’t have the use of his hands until they were done with collection for the day.

The nurse with her fingers inside Steve was still pumping away. If she was being a little more thorough with the pre-collection preparation, well, there were important guests here, and they wanted everything to go smoothly in every sense. When she finally removed her fingers, though, Steve’s hole felt conspicuously open and obscene, spread wide as he was, and highlighted in the glare of those big lights. Soon enough, though, another piece of Stark’s apparatus was moved into position between Steve’s legs, and Steve had to remind himself that none of this was about anyone getting their jollies. It was just about efficiently harvesting the material the scientists needed. If the procedure required making him a bit physically uncomfortable, well, there were hundreds of GIs at the front who’d gladly switch places for a cushy duty like this.

“Gentlemen.” Stark stepped to the center of the lab and waved a hand at the observers in the booth. Steve happened to be at the right angle to see him wink at Ms. Carter. “And ladies. The efforts that have been made so far to collect experimental material from Dr. Erskine’s creation have fallen short in both quality and quantity. The apparatus you see here will entirely eliminate the manual element from the collection procedure. Not only will it virtually guarantee the purity of the samples collected, but through rigorous observation and data collection, we can adjust the settings of the machine to achieve the absolute maximum volume of output. Let’s begin.”

The lab-coated assistant moved the machine between Steve’s legs closer, so that something blunt and slick pressed against Steve’s hole. Then Stark stepped up to the control panel, posed dramatically for his audience, and flipped a switch.

Steve grunted in surprise as something hard and slightly curved pressed slowly into his ass, deeper than fingers could reach, then retreated just as slowly. The machine wheezed a bit as it moved, and emitted some high-pitched clicks that sounded like the turning of tiny gears. When it was almost all the way out, it reversed course, pushing into him again. At that point Steve was distracted by a squeezing sensation around his cock. Something warm and damp inside the glass cylinder compressed, sliding down over his stiffening cock.

Steve drew in a sharp breath around his gag. That tight, wet heat was like nothing he’d felt before. The machine sighed like a bellows and moved again, sliding up the length of his cock, still with that firm, slow pressure. His cock hardened quickly, and he had to concentrate to keep himself lying flat on the table and not push his hips up chasing that delicious suction. Between his legs, the machine quickened its pace, thrusting into him with unrelenting precision.

“Equipment that measures the breathing and heart rate allows us to monitor arousal plateaus,” Stark was saying to the guests. “Once we establish a baseline, we’ll be able to calculate the most efficient combinations of stimuli to trigger ejaculation. As this is our first run, our maiden voyage, if you will--” the gathered crowd laughed-- “we’re doing some guesswork based on previous collection procedures. The current record for the start of a procedure to sample collection completion is six minutes, seventeen seconds. Do you think my machine can do better?”

A round of applause came from the observation booth. It drowned out the clicking and wheezing of the machines that were working Steve over.

“Then let’s get to it.” Stark turned a dial, and the machine thrusting away between Steve’s legs sped up, penetrating him with enough force to rock him back against the leather restraints. Stark turned another dial, and the machine mounted on Steve’s cock sped up with a loud, hydraulic hiss. It pushed itself down over Steve’s cock, so tight and warm Steve could almost imagine it was a person he was fucking. His hands clenched into fists thinking about Bucky straddling his lap, looking down at him with a mischievous grin.

Stark reached for a lever on his control panel, and when he pulled it, Steve had to thank his lucky stars for the gag, because he couldn’t stop the scream that erupted from his throat when the thick length moving inside him began to vibrate. His body jerked helplessly, unsure whether to push back against the insistant buzzing or thrust up into the inviting suction around his cock. He squeezed his eyes closed as orgasm hit, seizing his muscles and holding him rigid in the throes of pleasure until he was spent. He slumped against the table, and didn’t hear whatever Stark said that elicited more applause.

The suction and the thrusting both slowed to a crawl, but once Stark finished addressing the audience, he turned back to the control panel and nodded to his assistants. They turned the dials in increments, taking diligent notes as they did so, and the machines began to speed up again. 

\--

No one had told Steve much of anything about a plan for the day, so he was startled when a group of Army privates in crisp dress uniforms appeared bearing trays full of champagnes flutes. The SSR top brass and other guests who’d been watching filtered in from the observation room and began to circulate around the lab, drinking and chatting away. 

The machines continued their work, moving steadily over and within Steve’s body. His skin felt raw and sensitized in the wake of his climax such that every motion of the machines set his nerves afire. He bit down hard against the gag as the nerve-endings in his cock screamed their discomfort. Perhaps when they no longer had an audience, he could mention to Stark that he’d prefer a little more recovery time between rounds. 

Soon enough, though, the stimulation went from the wrong side of painful to eliciting a pleasant buzz of arousal that spread throughout his body and had him relaxing against the table. There was something relaxing, after all, about not being expected to do anything. He could just lie back and let the machines take care of him. 

Steve’s cock had never really gotten soft after he came the last time, and now the steady pumping of the machine seemed set at a leisurely pace: enough to keep him hard and wanting, but not making any effort to drive him over the edge. The machine between his legs, too, seemed ponderously slow, gliding so smoothly and gently as to cause almost no friction. Though this didn’t seem like the most efficient way to collect another sample, perhaps using these settings was some part of the data collection Stark had mentioned. Steve could be patient. It wasn’t as if he needed to come. He shouldn’t even be thinking of his own pleasure. 

He glanced over at the control panel. Two of the nurses and the assistant in the lab coat were standing together talking excitedly, each of them holding a glass of champagne. The third nurse, the tall brunette, was sitting at the control panel, looking back at Steve and smirking. Without looking away, she placed one dainty hand on a dial and turned it all the way to the right. 

Steve shouted into his gag as the machine between his legs began pistoning into him hard and fast, rocking him back against his restraints and chugging with effort. Steve didn’t see her pull another lever, but she must have, because a furious buzzing started up as the vibrations within him resumed, sending frissions of arousal through his nerves. He only realized he was continuously emitting a loud, throaty moan when all the nearby guests turned to look at him. 

Some looked annoyed, others amused, but Steve found he couldn’t control the noises coming out of him, loud even despite the gag. Aside from his helpless moans, the rattle of the metal table, and the hiss and clank of the machines, Steve could hear the wet, fleshy squelch of the machine penetrating him. His face heated with a deep blush as he realized how obscene this must look to the gathered crowd.

The suction on Steve’s cock still proceeded at a maddeningly slow pace, so Steve found himself teetering on the edge of completion for what seemed like hours, until at last the relentless vibrations drove him over. This time as his hips jerked, pumping his release into the machine, he heard a high-pitched bell ring three times, and then a red light flashed, lighting up the room. Steve turned his head as far as his restraints would allow to look at where the flashing light was mounted: above a clear glass vat where even now a hose was dribbling out the last thick drops of Steve’s latest release. Steve stared at the tank, which had to be the size of a barrel. Did they expect to be able to extract enough semen from him to fill that whole thing? How? 

Slowly, Steve became aware that the harvesting apparatus was moving again. Things became a bit blurry after that, and Steve’s attention drifted. 

At one point, a man wearing general’s stars came and placed a large hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You’re doing a great thing for your country, my boy. Keep it up.”

Steve tried to nod, but just then the bell sounded and the light flashed as his cock spurted again. When he opened his eyes, the general was gone. 

Some time later, Steve heard two doctors--one of them might have been Keller--talking as they stood behind the table, out of his line of sight. 

“This set up alone is evidence there are some homosexual proclivities at play,” one of them said. 

“Prostate massage is a well-documented technique. It’s not as if--”

“I’m only saying that if I’m right, which I am, it’s worth experimenting with oral stimulation as well. It’s common knowledge that homosexuals derive the majority of their sexual pleasure from use of the mouth. It could speed things up.”

“Well, I suppose experimenting with a different gag wouldn’t impede the efficiency of the rest of the apparatus. Oh, and I wanted to talk to you about stimulating the nipples.”

Steve lost the thread of the conversation then as someone adjusted the settings on the machine, turning up the suction pressure so high that the sensation drowned out all conscious thought for quite a while. 

After he’d come at least once more, Steve noticed Stark talking to a man he thought might be a senator. 

“There will be a physical limit at some point,” Stark was saying. “My apparatus may be able to go indefinitely, but I don’t think the human body, even one as advanced as this, can keep up.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what,” the man said. He had a bit of a country drawl that Steve was too much of a city boy to pinpoint. “Where I come from, the hog farmers had their hands full last year after a bout of swine dysentery took out most of their breeding stock. Had to do some quick replenishing, and lots of it. I remember a team of eggheads from the university coming up with some kind of ejaculate volumizer so that each male animal could produce enough to meet demand. Something like that might come in handy with this project. Might be worth asking around.”

Steve had lost track of how many times he’d climaxed, and was starting to be distracted by the gnawing hunger that warred with the simmering arousal in his belly, when someone stepped up right beside him. It took a moment for his eyes to focus, and another for his brain to process what he was seeing. She looked as poised and beautiful as always, her uniform perfectly neat. “Peggy?” he grunted into his gag. 

She reached behind his head to unhook the clasp holding the gag in place, then pulled the rubber bit out of his mouth. He felt a swell of embarrassment as saliva dripped from it before she set it down, but then he realized he was naked and still being pumped for sperm by a noisy machine, so probably there was no need to be ashamed of a little drool. 

“It seemed as if I wouldn’t get to speak to you at all unless I took my chance now,” she said. 

Steve worked his jaw a bit side to side to get some feeling back into it. “Sorry,” he said. “They keep my schedule pretty busy.”

“Yes.” She gave him a wry smile. “Well, I did want to check in on you. I know the medical division has been keeping you to themselves, and they aren’t known for their attention to, shall we say, the human element.”

“They do seem to prefer machines,” Steve said, with a glance down at his trussed-up body. That elicited a genuine chuckle, throaty and rich. 

“Right you are.” Her smile melted away, then. “Steven, I want to say how sorry I am about Dr. Erskine. I know the two of you had a connection.”

“Well, thank you.” Steve felt an unexpected lump form in his throat. It was foolish to be upset. He hadn’t known the man that well. But a part of Steve couldn’t help but wonder what he’d be doing right now if Erskine hadn’t died along with the secret of his formula. He swallowed hard. “I appreciate that.”

“Is there anything you need? It seems you’ll be assigned here for the foreseeable future.”

“They’re not sending me to the front?” Steve’s body felt stiff and cold then, despite the continued movement of the machines. 

“No one’s talked to you about this.” Peggy pursed her lips. “No. It seems they’ve decided that harvesting genetic material is their first priority. I’m sorry if that’s a disappointment.”

“Oh.” Steve wanted to say something about that, but was finding it hard to concentrate in light of the slow, rhythmic squeezing and penetration. He only felt wrung-out and hollow.

“They’re sending your personal effects from Camp Lehigh,” she continued. “But if there’s anything else you need--”

“Actually,” he said as a stab of longing hit him, more powerful than any lustful desire he could remember feeling. “I have this buddy, a guy from the old neighborhood.”

“Someone who beat you up in an alley?” She raised an eyebrow at him, and he recalled their conversation in the car on the way to this lab before Steve had had this new, strong body that everyone seemed to excited to get a piece of. 

“No ma’am.” Steve smiled at the thought of him and Bucky squaring off against bullies together. “Not hardly. Anyway, he’s at the front now. I’d like to write to him. If--if I won’t be going there for a while.” He swallowed down the lump that threatened to block his throat again.”Do you suppose you could figure out where to send a letter?”

“Certainly. I’d be happy to. Do you know his assignment, his unit?”

“Infantry. 107th.”

“Right. I’ll see that you get--”

Just then, Steve let out a helpless shout as both machines jumped from a leisurely pace to a frantic one, as if they were trying to pull him apart.

An assistant came hurrying over and shouldered Peggy out of the way. As he shoved the gag back between Steve’s teeth and fasted it in place, he said, “This equipment is for everyone’s comfort and safety, ma’am. It’d be best if you didn’t touch anything else.”

Peggy gave Steve a narrow smile and a warm squeeze on the shoulder before she let the assistant shoo her away. 

After that, Steve lay mostly still, watching as the guests began to disperse. Twice more the machine dragged orgasms out of him, though on the last one, hardly any semen dripped into the vat. The machines continued their work at a steady pace. Steve soon found discomfort turning to pain as his cock began to chafe against the machine. 

When a nurse passed by him, Steve grunted a few times to get her attention. She turned to him with a frown. It was the brunette again. “Is something wrong?” Her voice was honey-sweet and high-pitched, belying her sharp expression. 

Steve tried to nod as best he could in the restraints. She shook her head. “Sorry, hotshot. Today’s test parameters say we need to finish the planned course of treatment. You’ll just have to tough it out.” She leaned in closer and tapped a finger against the tip of Steve’s nose. “But you’ll be a good boy for us, won’t you? Big, strong thing like you isn’t going to cry over a few minor ouchies, is he? No, I know you’ll behave until we’re all finished.” She gave him a bright smile that showed her perfectly white teeth. 

Steve clenched his jaw as she walked away. The other nurses continued to fiddle with the controls, slowing the suction until it rasped like sandpaper over the head of his cock, and cranking up the thrusting so it struck the same sensitive spot over and over and over. Steve squeezed his eyes closed and tried to separate the pain from the pleasure signals that still sparked along his nerves. The pain was just a minor inconvenience, and temporary besides. His body would heal any minor injury almost immediately. It wouldn’t be like the old days, when he’d felt one punch for a week or more afterwards. When his climax came at last, it was short and without pleasure. Though the flashing light and the bell went off just the same, not a single drop came out of the hose into the collection vat. 

“Looks like that’s it for today!” Stark stepped up to the control panel and flipped a switch, and everything stopped. The machine between Steve’s legs withdrew, leaving his ass gaping, his muscles reflexively twitching around empty space. The blonde nurse stepped up to the table and pressed some buttons on the side of the glass cylinder, which released its hold on Steve’s softening cock with a hiss. Steve gritted his teeth as she lifted the thing off.

As she pulled the apparatus out of the way and got a good look, she gasped. “Doesn’t that hurt?” She prodded at the tiny cuts and friction burn all around the head of Steve’s cock.

“Yes,” Steve said shortly. 

“Well, get someone’s attention next time.” Stark gave Steve’s cock a quick glance, then retrieved the machine from the nurse. “No need to be stoic. It could slow down collection to have your pea-shooter out of commission. Maybe we need to get you a panic button or something. Let me make a note.”

Steve knew he was blushing at that dressing-down, but he tried to look for that brunette nurse anyway. She seemed to be busy with paperwork on the other side of the room, so Steve resigned himself to letting it go. There was no need to embarrass her. Probably someone had told her something different than what Stark just said. Steve would know better next time.

Stark’s assistant got Steve unstrapped from the table and sitting upright, and brought him a robe. Steve found all his muscles felt as wrung out, limp, and sore as his cock, and he had to wait for feeling to come back into his feet before he could stand. No one seemed to be paying any more attention to him, so he figured he was at liberty to return to his quarters. 

As Steve shuffled towards the door, Stark called after him, “Get some rest and eat your Wheaties, Rogers. I’ve got lots of ideas for phase two.” He emptied a glass of champagne someone had left on the control panel. “See you tomorrow, champ.”


	3. Chapter 3

Steve knew he had to be in a dream, because everything around him was drained of color, the way it had always been before Erskine’s serum had turned the world sharp with more hues than Steve knew could exist. There were lights flashing in his eyes-- stage lights?-- and he couldn’t tell what lay beyond them. He looked down to discover that he was bound to the metal exam table, strapped in securely with his legs spread wide in stirrups. The machines were already beginning to work him over, thrusting into his slicked ass and suctioning around his hard cock. 

Pleasure rushed through Steve, erasing the discomfort of the restraints. He couldn’t hold back a guttural moan. To his surprise, the moan echoed back at him, as if amplified a hundred times. On the heels of that sound came a wave of applause. Steve could feel himself blush, but nothing could stop the grunts and moans that escaped him as the machines did their work. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, isn’t this one a fine specimen?”

Steven turned his head to see Howard Stark, dressed in a sharp suit and a top hat like a ringmaster’s, standing in front of a microphone. Beyond him, Steve recognized the exhibition hall of the Stark Expo. The floor was packed with a cheering audience, some eating peanuts or popcorn, some simply staring at Steve with the expressions of children watching an exotic animal at the zoo. 

“The super soldier of the future! Now sure, you might think he’d be off fighting old Adolf or protecting our men at the front, but no, folks. This is all he’s good for. What do you think, shall we see how much he can take?”

The crowd roared their approval. Steven gasped as the machines sped up, thrusting into him and milking his cock at a punishing speed. He looked out at the audience, who kept up their clapping and cheering. Towards the front of the crowd, Steve caught sight of Bucky. He wore a sly grin and his Army uniform with his hat at a jaunty angle, just as Steve had seen him last. The woman holding Bucky’s arm tugged at his sleeve, and Bucky leaned down to listen. Steven saw with a start that it was the dark-haired nurse. She pointed up at the stage, at Steve, and said something into Bucky’s ear. They both laughed. 

The machine in Steve’s ass began to vibrate then, jolting Steve’s awareness back to his body. He shouted, and heard the sound echo back at him, followed by more cheering. The pleasure mingled with pain as Steve squirmed in his restraints. He wanted to come, needed to come, but pressure just kept building, coiling inside him like an over-tightened spring. 

The machines increased their speed again, and an agonized shout escaped Steve. Stark, saying something into his microphone, paid Steve no mind. Steve’s cock throbbed, and his balls felt as if they might burst. This was too much, was not what he’s signed up for, couldn’t be why Erskine had recruited him. “Stop,” he cried, and looked out to the crowd to see Bucky and the nurse still laughing. “Stop!”

Steve sat bolt upright in his bunk. The grey, featureless walls of his tiny room and the green, standard-issue blanket reassured him he was back in the waking world. It took Steve another moment to realize that the pain had followed him. His balls ached fiercely, and he was fully hard, his erection straining at the front of his boxers. 

He reached down to feel, then pulled his hand away with a hiss of pain. His balls were swollen and hot to the touch, throbbing relentlessly with Steve’s pulse. Steve gripped his teeth and eased a hand inside his shorts to grip his shaft. Surely this was a lingering effect from the dream. If he could just make himself come--but the first stroke jostled his tender sac, and he doubled over with pain. 

Then Steve remembered the injection that Dr. Keller had given him last night. It was supposed to “aid in material collection,” though the doctor hadn’t explained exactly how. He had mentioned there might be some discomfort, and to notify the medical staff immediately if he noticed anything unusual. Steve figured this counted. He’d learned his lesson after the last time Stark admonished him for not speaking up.

Moving gingerly, Steve got out of bed and put on his uniform. Even the slight compression of his balls in his pants brought tears to his eyes, and he had to hold still and breathe until the pain settled down to a barely manageable ache. He shuffled awkwardly down the hall, keeping his legs as far apart as possible, to report to the lab.   
\--

Nurse Gilbert, the blond one with the kind smile, was on duty. Making sympathetic noises at Steve’s evident distress, she instructed him to remove his clothes. There was a time when Steve might have felt self-conscious undressing in front of a lady, even if she was a nurse, but this woman had seen and touched all of Steve’s most intimate parts. He stripped as efficiently as he could, trying not to jostle his heavy, swollen balls. 

Once he was naked, she helped him lie on the metal table and put his feet in the stirrups. His cock and balls still throbbed painfully, but at least naked and spread this way, they weren’t bearing any more pressure than they had to. “Are you comfortable?” she asked, and Steve nodded slowly, careful not to move any more than absolutely necessary.

Dr. Keller bustled into the room, followed by two assistants, also wearing lab coats. Steven wanted to apologize for inconveniencing these people in the middle of the night, but no one addressed him or even looked him in the eye. Nor did Dr. Keller consult the nurse about what the problem was, instead stepping up to the end of the table and raking his eyes over Steve’s body: his swollen balls, the thin sheen of sweat on his chest, his fists clenched at his sides. 

“Davies, take notes,” he instructed, and one of the assistants stepped up with a pen and clipboard. “Testes are visibly enlarged. Subject seems to be experiencing a high pain level, but remains erect.” Keller leaned in, cupped a hand around Steve’s scrotum and squeezed. Steve couldn’t contain the scream that poured out of him. Dr. Keller gave him a sharp glare, then turned to the nurse. “Gags and restraints, please.” 

Nurse Gilbert gave Steve a brief glance and a sympathetic smile before she began buckling down the leather restraints. The gag she fastened over his mouth was the wide leather strap they’d begun using for the more strenuous material collection sessions: less uncomfortable than the rubber bit they’d previously made him wear the past few weeks, and more effective at muffling sound besides. Steve tried to pay attention to the doctor, since no one seemed inclined to tell him what was going on. 

Dr. Schroeder had arrived, and was standing with Keller between Steve’s spread legs, leaning in to examine him. “The ejaculate volumizer is working much more quickly than we realized.”

“Must have something to do with the enhanced metabolism. We’ll need to create a more frequent collection schedule to make sure too much pressure doesn’t build up.” Keller sighed impatiently. “Last thing we need is a ruptured testicle. That would create significant delays.”

“In the meantime, we need to induce an orgasm. Should we use the machine?”

Keller reached out and grabbed Steve’s hard cock, causing him to scream again, though this time the gag muffled enough of the sound so that the doctors were not interrupted. “As I suspected, manual stimulation is painful. The weight of the suctioning apparatus is out of the question if we want to preserve all the sex organs intact.”

“Then perhaps it’s time to implement the electroejaculation procedure,” said Schroeder. “Has it been sufficiently tested?”

“Only one way to find out,” Keller replied. “Johnson, bring the prototype Dr. Mayer has been working on. Nurse, lubricate the rectum and make certain the passage is sufficiently slack. We’ll need room to maneuver the probe. And make sure the monitoring equipment is in place. We’ll want to compare this data with baseline readings. Do that first. Ah, Nurse Rathjen, you’re here.”

The dark-haired nurse, Rathjen, appeared at the side of the exam table. She placed a hand on Steve’s bare shoulder and gave him a narrow smile that didn’t warm her eyes. He had to look away; the image from his dream, of her and Bucky laughing together, was too fresh. 

“You can get him prepped,” Keller said. The nurse nodded and, with a quick squeeze to Steve’s shoulder, turned away.

Keller and Schroeder moved off, discussing the new procedure they planned to attempt. Steve couldn’t imagine objecting to whatever solution they presented. He would agree to anything that would ease the maddening pressure that seemed to grow every minute. Of course, they hadn’t asked for his agreement. 

Nurse Rathjen returned with a tray and a stool, and settled between Steve’s legs, where she could work and still see his face. “Now, relax. This is just the usual procedure.” Her cool, slick fingers rubbed at Steve’s entrance, a welcome distraction from the throbbing pain. With her other hand, she pushed Steve’s heavy sac out of the way, and he howled into his gag. The other staff ignored him, but she frowned at him, contrite. 

“Does it hurt? I’m very sorry. Try to focus on something else. For instance, have you wondered what they’ll do with all this semen they collect from you? I’ve heard they’re trying to distill a new version of Dr. Erskine’s serum. That’s why the need larger volumes, you know, to use in various experiments. But if that doesn’t work, I imagine they’ll create new super soldiers the old fashioned way.” She pushed her fingers further into Steve, rotating them to loosen the muscle. 

“Why, what patriotic young woman wouldn’t volunteer to carry the next generation of super soldiers?” she continued. “I think there’d be great demand for the privilege. Me, for example. I’m not married, and I think any son of ours would be quite handsome, don’t you?” She gave him a brief, flirtatious smile even as she added another finger and pressed deeper inside him.

Steve tried to look elsewhere, to find somewhere else to focus his attention, but there was nothing but the agonizing throb in his genitals and the pleasurable stretch of the nurse’s fingers inside him. He gritted his teeth behind the gag and concentrated on breathing deeply through his nose.

“Then again, there’s always the possibility that the serum won’t translate on a genetic level, and any children that resulted would be like you were before the serum: sickly and weak. I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but such children end up being a burden to everyone around them. It would be better if they could know before they were born, and eliminate the weak ones before they can become a drain on society.” She spread her fingers and rotated her wrist, stretching him wide. Steve pulled his neck back to the limit of the restraints, trying to block out the sensation of her touch. He didn’t want this woman to be giving him pleasure. 

“But in any case, most likely that will be a question for you and the future Mrs. Rogers.” She withdrew her fingers to apply more lubricant, and then pressed again at his entrance, this time apparently with four fingers, boring relentlessly inside him. “Do you think it will be strange for her, knowing that so many people have touched you so intimately?”

Steve made a small noise of protest into the gag, and once again had to push away the mental image of Bucky’s face in the crowd together with this woman, laughing at him. 

“Of course, lots of men sow their wild oats in their youth, but this is a rather extreme case.” She rotated her hand and pushed forward, and Steve felt the ridge of her knuckles as her whole hand slid into him, creating such a feeling of fullness and pressure that there was no room in his brain to sort pain from pleasure. 

“Will it be odd, I wonder, when she’s touching you, to think about all of us doing the same? Like all the times I’ve had my fingers inside you, or made you climax? Or suppose, since you’re used to the stimulation of all these machines, that she can’t pleasure you at all. Wouldn’t that be strange?”

Steve whined into his gag, unable to do anything more, or think of anything he might do, with the relentless sensations of throbbing pain and her hand moving inside of him, and he could hear in his mind this woman’s laughter mingled with Bucky’s easy, throaty chuckle. 

“We’re ready for the procedure now.” Dr. Keller had appeared beside the table, and Steve opened his eyes and focused on him like a lifeline, something real in what had begun to seem like a nightmare. 

“Yes, doctor.” Nurse Rathjen slowly eased her hand from Steve, giving a last lingering twist at the widest part of her fist to stretch the rim of his hole to its limit. The flash of pain made Steve jerk reflexively, setting off a chain reaction of hurt as his other sensitive parts were jostled. She didn’t seem to notice, placing her equipment on a tray and carrying it away. 

“Nurse Gilbert, be ready with the specimen container,” Keller said. “Hales, plug in those electrodes just there. That’s right. Now, stand back. No one should be in contact with the subject, to avoid being shocked. Dr. Schroeder, you’ll activate the current at my signal.”

The others bustled around to do their parts, and Nurse Gilbert appeared at Steve’s side with an open glass jar. Keller settled onto the stool where Nurse Rathjen had sat. Steve couldn’t see the machine they were using, but the cool, blunt length he pressed inside Steve felt heavy, like perhaps it was made of metal. It wasn’t as thick as the nurse’s wrist, so it wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly. 

Keller moved the thing smoothly and slowly, and Steve felt immensely grateful for the care not to cause further pain. Keller angled the probe expertly, maneuvering it in minute gradations until he gave a satisfied nod. “All right, Dr. Schroeder. Now.”

Schroeder flipped a switch, and Steve’s consciousness lit up with agony. The probe sent an electric shock through his body, causing a violent convulsion that shook him against the restraints and sent his heavy, sensitive balls bouncing painfully. He felt his cock twitch along with the rest of him, but it wasn’t until he pried his eyes open and saw Nurse Gilbert lifting a half-full sample jar that he realized he had come. 

Steve’s mind spun dizilly as he stared at it. There’d been no pleasure in that for him, nothing like the satisfying feel of an orgasm, which held something good even at its most painful, at the end of a long session, wrung out and exhausted and coming dry. This was simply mechanical, as if he himself were a machine that the doctors used to produce semen. 

“Excellent,” said Keller. He left the probe where it was and turned to Schroeder. “Considering the build-up that’s occurred, I estimate we’ll need to induce ejaculation half a dozen more times, give or take, before it will be feasible to return to standard collection methods. But I’m very pleased with the increase in volume.”

“Yes, the injection seems to have been a great success. Well done indeed,” said Schroeder. “Now, we’ll need more sample jars.”

Their conversation faded to a low background buzz. Steve’s body rang with shock. Every part of him ached. It was possible the throbbing pain in his balls had decreased, or perhaps it only seemed less agonizing in comparison to a whole body’s worth of screaming nerves. Distantly, he felt the probe slide out and Dr. Keller’s fingers push into him. 

“Fine, fine. No damage.” Keller re-inserted the probe and moved it about, more confidently and less carefully this time. “In subsequent rounds we’ll need to be diligent in avoiding a surface burn. I don’t want to have to delay today’s scheduled collection session. But we’re ready to go again.”

Steve tried to register a protest, grunting urgently into his gag, but no one so much as glanced at him. “Now,” Keller said, and the pain consumed him.


	4. Chapter 4

Steve was grateful that over the course of a few weeks, the scientists had managed to adjust the formula of the ejaculate volumizer so that he was producing semen at a steadier rate. It did mean that collection had to take place on a strict schedule, at least once an hour outside of his regular daily sessions. He never found himself in the desperate situation he’d been in that first night they tried the injection, but he did find that his balls were uncomfortably tender and swollen as each hourly session approached, and the only relief came when he submitted to the scientist’s machines and allowed himself to be made to come. 

The procedure was lodged in his mind, wherever he was in his day: running doggedly around the base’s small exercise track, ignoring the ache in his ass; shoveling in a plate of scrambled eggs that never quite seemed to be enough to satisfy his new, larger appetite; shaking hands with a senator or general the SSR had brought in to show the progress of their super soldier project; or kneeling by his bed to say his prayers, and an extra rosary for Bucky. Steve knew he was never more than an hour away from being hooked up to the machines again, having his balls drained for the good of his country. He slept fitfully, even when he was exhausted after a day of coming and coming and coming, slowly filling up their sample vat and still never quite running dry. It was hard to sleep soundly when he knew a uniformed private would come to shake him awake at five to the hour and escort him down to the lab. 

Since they’d fine-tuned the ejaculate volumizer formula, the scientists were seldom able to exhaust his ability to produce in any given session. Gone were the days of coming dry before a session was complete. However, that also meant there was more interest in keeping the collection procedure going. 

“Why would we stop?” Schroeder snapped irritably when Nurse Gilbert reminded him it was time to end the 11am session one Tuesday. “What else does he have to do that’s so important?” But he let the assistants unhook Steve and lead him away to the mess.

Steve found that his schedule contained less and less time doing anything but being hooked up to the machines. That was good, he told himself. He was providing the scientists with more of what they needed, and that helped the war effort. It seemed to be all they’d let him do for now. He should be glad to help, even if it was sometimes painful. At least they hadn’t needed to resort to the electric probe since that first time. But now, when Steve was led into the lab, a hard lump of fear settled in his throat. He had to force himself to lie still while the nurses strapped him in. There should be no reason for the desire to fight them off, to rip through the bonds and run out of the lab.

Almost every day the scientists tried out some new idea to streamline the process. Instead of the bar gag or the strap, they tried out a strange gag that was shaped like a phallus. It was meant to increase Steve’s pleasure, Dr. Keller had explained, leading to a faster orgasm. Steve just found it hard to breathe around the thing. It didn’t feel anything like having a real, living human in his mouth, like Bucky taking his pleasure. Steve didn’t complain, though. It was nice, in a way, to have something else to focus on during his lengthy collection sessions. After a few days of no results, they went back to the other gag. 

They also began inserting a plug after each session, when his ass was wet and gaping. This saved time, Dr. Schroeder explained, keeping his muscles stretched and ready to accommodate the machine. It did save time in preparation, though Steve found after a week or so that the plug tended to slide out after particularly vigorous sessions. They gave him a larger one to replace it, and Steve heard Dr. Mayer muttering about telling to the fabrication team they’d need to make larger sizes.

The enhanced semen production had led to an engorged and tender sac, and the doctors had given Steve specially reinforced skivvies to combat the danger of “undesirable scrotal distension.” Whenever he was on the table, a sling was strategically hooked between the slats to support Steve’s balls so they wouldn’t dangle painfully. They did swing with the rhythmic motion of the mechanical phallus, but when the nurses had tried more tightly securing Steve’s sac to prevent that movement, the additional pressure had been nearly unbearable. In any case, the soft fabric of the sling provided a cushion against excessive jostling, and allayed the doctor’s concerns about damaging the scrotum.

Some of the doctors' innovations were more successful than others, but Steve tried not to worry too much about which alterations would become permanent, even if they were strange or uncomfortable. His duty was to keep himself fit so he could produce as much genetic material as possible. That’s what Erskine would have wanted him to do, and now that his new body was so strong, he could stand it, no matter what they needed from him.

One day, stumbling back to his little room between sessions and the mess hall, uncertain of the time of day, Steve saw a single sheet of V-Mail set out on his bed. It was from Peggy, with a return address in Italy. The text filled less than half the page, with only a few words blocked out by the censors. He snatched it up to read.

Dear Steven,

I hope you are well, and the scientists’ experiments are not too onerous. I have heard, unofficially of course, that there may be a shift in your duties sometime in the coming weeks, I believe something to do with selling war bonds, as a complement to the advertising work for which your image is already being used. I checked into the friend you mentioned, and I’m sorry to inform you that Sergeant Barnes’ unit met the forces of --------------- in a battle a few days ago near --------------- and the entire outfit is missing, presumed dead. I offer my heartfelt condolences. I will write again if I hear of a concrete decision regarding your assignment. 

Kindly yours,  
Peggy Carter

Steve sank onto his bunk, and the letter fluttered from his hand onto the floor. He stared at the blank wall across from him, and thought this would be a good time to to cry. Was he not crying because he was dehydrated? He’d have to tell the nurses he needed more water. Dehydration impeded efficient collection. He’d been affectionately scolded by Nurse Gilbert before. When he was sick, Buck was always trying to get him to drink something. He’d give Steve hell if he heard Steve wasn’t taking care of himself. Or, he would have. 

“Knock knock!” Nurse Rathjen tapped a cursory knock on Steve’s open door, then stepped inside. “Aren’t you coming to the session? You’re late.”

“Right.” Steve rose to his feet and stood still, fighting off a dizzy, sick feeling. 

“You don’t want to keep everyone waiting. There’s lots of very busy people who are nice enough to arrange their schedules around your needs. Come on, then.” Rathjen reached out to grab Steve’s wrist, and tugged him gently toward the hallway. She stepped on the letter on her way out, and Steve could do nothing but follow.


	5. Chapter 5

Steve wasn’t certain what time it was, or even what day it was when he decided he should ask someone about the change of assignment Carter had mentioned in her letter. Time had begun to stretch and blur with the new procedures. Yes, technically he was on duty continuously now, but Steve had nothing to occupy his thoughts except the letter. Carter had said that Bucky’s unit was missing. Not confirmed dead. Only missing. And here Steve was, as far from the war as he’d been back when he was getting kicked out of every recruiting station from the Bronx to Staten Island. 

Except now, Steve could fight. He could endure pain, he was strong, and his stamina was well proven. Erskine had expected more from him than this. And if the brass thought that just because he was only one man, he wouldn’t be any good to the war effort, well, he’d never prove them wrong from here. He’d gone along with their experiments for long enough, hadn’t he? Surely they had enough genetic material now for all the testing they could do in a lifetime. As soon as Steve got a chance, he’d convince whoever he needed to. He was getting out of here. 

Steve glanced at the clock and saw that it wasn’t long before the 7pm cleaning session, one of his two daily breaks from the collection procedures. He flexed his toes and fingers, which was all he could do in the way of fidgeting. The only other person in the room, a bored Army private reading the paper, took no notice. A shudder passed through Steve, the bell clanged, the red light flashed, and Steve felt a peak in the distant pleasure that had become a background buzz of sensation. The private turned a page of his paper. 

Steve would ask to talk to his commanding officer, he decided. He wasn’t certain exactly who that was, but someone had to know. No one higher ranking than the doctors had been in the lab for several weeks. And come to think of it, even the doctors had been appearing less and less often as they declared themselves satisfied with the efficiency of the procedure. Steve had to admit they had things running quite smoothly, and certainly much more effectively than they’d started out. 

The new collection procedure had him positioned him on all fours, legs slightly spread for easier maintenance, and suspended off the ground at a convenient working height for the nurses. This configuration had been deemed optimal because the mechanical phallus could be set up behind Steve with room to move, and the hydraulic semen collection device positioned below him, taking advantage of the increased drainage provided by gravity. Instead of the old table, the engineers had rigged up a web of straps, leather reinforced with steel wire, too strong for Steve to easily break if he lost control of himself during a particularly powerful climax. 

The various loops kept Steve safely immobilized and distributed his weight evenly. They also allowed personnel to reposition his limbs without disturbing the collection procedure, for example, in his hour-long “exercise” period daily, during which the nurses stretched and flexed his arms and legs one at a time. Dr. Schroeder had said he didn’t think Steve’s muscles would atrophy from disuse due to his increased healing factor, but that he’d rather be safe than sorry. He hadn’t sounded like he anticipated Steve would need good muscle tone for any duties in the near future.

At least in this position, with his head positioned straight ahead, Steve could see a portion of the lab’s control panels, the clock, and the room’s only door, so he knew when people were arriving or leaving. Dr. Mayer had also explained that they could easily communicate with him in this position, though they hadn’t thought it necessary for him to talk since back when they were rigging the straps in this configuration, and one of the engineers had kept asking if this strap or that was too tight. It had been nice to be directly addressed for once. 

It had been difficult enough before to make himself understood through the wide leather gag that muffled sound, but with the new model, it was impossible. Dr. Keller had fitted Steve with a new phallus-shaped gag, a larger one held in with a strap that fastened behind Steve’s head. The phallic gag they’d used before hadn’t seemed to make much of a difference, but when Keller stood back and examined the arrangement with a bit of a gleam in his eye, he pronounced himself satisfied, and they’d stopped recording data on the gag. 

The phallus was thick, keeping his jaw stretched, and long enough to fill his mouth without choking him. It was impossible to keep himself from drooling, but the cleaning staff regularly mopped around him, and no one else acknowledged the mess. The flexible material--rubber, perhaps--had some give to it, but not the silky smoothness of a real cock. Still, once in the long hours of the night, with only one inattentive private on duty, he had thought of Bucky. Of being on his knees with Bucky, digging his skinny fingers into the meat of Bucky’s ass and thrilling to the stifled sounds of Bucky’s desperate moans. He had sucked on the phallus-shaped gag and imagined looking up at Bucky, seeing that cocky grin. Maybe going to the bathhouse again with Bucky, letting one of those hungry, smiling strangers nail him from behind while he sucked Bucky. He’d been scrawny then, all elbows and hard angles, but his new body was sturdy and strong. He could take a hard pounding, and Bucky would love the thrill of it, sharing Steve out and watching him take it so good, watching him squirm and groan, watching him come. 

With machines pumping into him and squeezing him while he sucked on the rubber cock in his mouth, Steve had come hard, feeling something like real satisfaction as he imagined Bucky tipping his chin up to deliver a hot kiss and tasting himself on Steve’s tongue. 

But the procedure didn’t leave Steve much time to indulge his fantasies. No sooner had the aftershocks of his orgasm died down than the machines whirred to life again, slower now, but marching him steadily forward towards his next climax. And he’d been reminded, then, that Bucky wouldn’t feel that pleasure, or any other, ever again. So Steve hadn’t indulged in those distractions since.

The bell rang, the red light flashed again, and Steve closed his eyes briefly as a wave of release swept through him. When he opened them again, personnel had begun to arrive for 7pm cleaning session. Steve recognized Nurse Rathjen and Nurse Gilbert, as well as a newer nurse who he thought might be called something like Collins. No one had introduced them. 

As the minutes ticked down, Steve swallowed around his gag and rehearsed what he wanted to say. Something like, “Pardon me, m’am. Could you let the CO know I need to speak with him?” Or maybe, “Take me to see the man in charge right now.” The thought of being released from his bonds for the first time in weeks, of walking somewhere under his own power, gave Steve a jolt of longing at least twice as strong as the simmering lust that had become his constant companion.

When the clock struck the hour, the assembled nurses approached Steve, chatting lightly amongst themselves and each attending to her particular duty. Nurse Rathjen unstrapped Steve’s gag, pulled it gently from his mouth, and set it on a metal tray. At last, here was his chance. Steve flexed his jaw and tried to swallow, though his throat felt very dry, as it always did right before his feedings. 

“Nurse,” he tried to say, but it came out only as a strangled croak. He licked his lips and tried again. “Nurse?”

“Hush now,” Nurse Rathjen said. She gripped his jaw to position him correctly, and with skilled, practiced movements, inserted the feeding tube down through his throat, effectively silencing him. 

“But that’s the thing,” Nurse Gilbert was saying. “There wasn’t time to find a dress. He had orders for the next day.” She had unhooked the pumping mechanism from around Steve’s cock already, and was now soaping up Steve’s genitals with warm water and a soft cloth. 

“But her uniform? It just doesn’t seem very romantic,” said Nurse Collins. She’d pulled the mechanical phallus out of the way and was inserting the lubricated tip of an enema tube into his passage. “Ugh, this gets looser every time. I’m going to have to hold it in place.”

“Just put it further in, where it isn’t so stretched. It should stay, then,” Nurse Rathjen said. She was carefully emptying a large syringe of nutritional formula into the feeding tube. “And of course it’s not romantic, Edith. There’s only one reason she’d insist on getting married before he left. I’d bet my cigarette ration he’s got her in trouble.”

“What a thing to say!” Nurse Gilbert finished rinsing Steve’s cock and carried the bowl of water over to the tray with her other equipment. “I swear, sometimes you just like to stir up stories. And when she’s not even here to say differently.” She picked up a cloth bag that sloshed with the melting ice inside it, and returned to her short stool at Steve’s side. She hefted Steve’s cock and balls and firmly pressed the ice pack to them. Steve jerked in his bonds and sucked in breath around the feeding tube, and Gilbert petted a hand down his flank to calm him. “There’s lots of other reasons a gal might want to tie the knot.”

“Viv’s right! What about just wanting him to know you’re going to be faithful to him and that he’ll have you to come home to?” Nurse Collins held the enema bag up beside her, and Steve could feel the warm fluid rushing into him. “That’s why me and Stuart got engaged. He wanted me to have a ring on my finger so no one on the base would try anything with me.”

“That’s no deterrent for some of these wolves. I’ve seen the way Private Patterson makes eyes at you,” Rathjen said. She set down the first, emptied syringe and picked up another from the tray. “He certainly wouldn’t let another man’s ring scare him off if you gave the say-so.”

“Well I wouldn’t!” Collins jerked the enema hose out of Steve and slapped the bedpan down on the tray below him with unnecessary force. “I love Stuart, and he loves me, and as soon as he comes back, we’re getting married. I wouldn’t care if I had to wear my uniform to do it.”

“All right, all right,” Rathjen said with a chuckle. “Touchy. For all I know, those two are just as much in love as you and Stuart.”

“Does this usually take this long?” Gilbert asked. Though Steve couldn’t turn his head to see what she meant, he heard the frown in her voice. The other two nurses came around the side to look. 

“It’s been more of a problem lately.” Rathjen bustled over to the far counter and returned with a bucket of ice water. “Here, just dip them in.” 

Glibert tugged Steve’s cock and balls downward as Rathjen positioned the bucket, dunking him in the freezing water. Steve’s yelp of surprise was not entirely muffled by the feeding tube, but no one so much as looked in his direction. 

“There,” Rathjen said as she squeezed Steve’s cock. “That should be soft enough.” She carried the bucket back across the room before returning to the feeding. 

“Thank you. Now I’ll tell you, when I get married, I want a real church wedding.” Gilbert took a firm hold of Steve’s wilted cock and began inserting the catheter. Steve squeezed his eyes shut, knowing from long experience now that squirming only drew out the process. “A white dress, flowers, my daddy there to give me away. I don’t care if we have to wait until the war’s over. Walter knows that if he wants me to have and to hold, he’s going to have to live up to certain expectations.”

“Oh, I bet he will,” said Collins. “I’ve seen the two of you together. He’d fly to the moon for you.”

“We’re halfway through the feeding, girls,” Rathjen said. “We’d better get a move on if we’re going to get him hooked up again on schedule.”

As they waited for the waste elimination to finish, Gilbert and Collins washed Steve down, starting at opposite ends and undoing one strap at a time. They wiped down his skin with warm cloths and applied lotion before retightening a strap and moving on to the next one. Steve let his mind drift away from their conversation, sinking into the discomfort of the cleaning procedures that were at least a break from the monotony of the rest of his day. 

At last, Nurse Rathjen had emptied the last of the syringes into Steve’s feeding tube, leaving his belly uncomfortably tight and full. Gilbert drew out the catheter, coated Steve’s cock with lubricant, and gave it a few quick strokes to revive his flagged erection before replacing the hydraulic device and sealing it tightly. Collins squirted a generous measure of lubricant into Steve’s rectum and repositioned the mechanical phallus, which slid back inside him easily. From behind Steve, she raised her voice to call to the private on duty, “Burroughs, could you make a note that this instrument will need to be switched out with a larger size soon?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, and idly scribbled something on the clipboard in front of him. 

Gilbert was returning her stool to its storage spot beneath a cabinet, and Collins was balancing a covered bedpan on her tray while gathering the other supplies she’d used. Rathjen rinsed Steve’s gag in warm water and positioned it close to her on a tray before she drew the feeding tube slowly out. 

Steve coughed a little, and swallowed twice. He’d say something now. Surely they wouldn’t refuse him, not when his request was so reasonable. He had only just tried to speak again when Rathjen shoved the gag between his teeth and fastened it so tightly the straps bit into the corners of his mouth. 

Steve grunted and tried to catch her eyes. She smiled down at him, tapped her finger smartly against his nose, and said, “No fussing now. You’re fine.” She gathered her tray of supplies and headed for the door behind the other two nurses, leaving Steve alone with a single unattentive guard and the machines whirring once more into motion.


	6. Chapter 6

“Steven. Steven.”

Steve didn’t want to wake up. He’d learned how to more or less sleep through the bell and the light, and none of the regular procedures required his participation, or even that he be conscious. And he was so tired. 

“Please don’t,” he tried to say around the gag. They should just let him rest. He was giving them everything they wanted already. What else could they possibly expect from him?

“Steven.”

He felt hands on his face, fumbling with the gag. The leather came loose from the buckle at the back of his head, and then the rubber phallus was pulled from his mouth, trailing saliva. He pried his eyes open, anxious to see what might be disrupting the daily schedule, and saw Peggy Carter staring down at the damp, phallus-shaped gag in her hand, mouth open and eyes wide. 

Steve tried to swallow despite a very dry mouth, and rasped out, “Agent Carter?”

Her eyes snapped to him, and she seemed to shake herself a little. “Good. You’re awake. We’re leaving.”

“Leaving?” Steve looked beyond Carter to see Howard Stark badgering a bewildered Private Davies into handing him the day’s charts and paperwork. 

“Let’s move, son. Come on, hop to,” Stark said with a grand gesture. “Equipment off, restraints off, double time.” When Davies tried to form a protest, Stark clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a gentle push towards Steve, then stepped up to the control panel and began flipping switches.

“Steven,” Carter said gently. “Do you know where you are?”

The constant whir and click of the machines spun down to nothing even as Davies pulled the mechanical phallus out of Steve with a wet squelch. 

“How did you get here?” Steve’s voice was barely a whisper. His throat was so dry. 

“Yeah, hey Rogers, we’ve got to hit the road,” Stark said as he appeared at Carter’s side. “Very important SSR orders. We’ll do the chit chat later. Carter, a little help here?”

The two of them began releasing the straps from Steve’s legs as Davies fiddles with the hydraulic suction machine, tugging at various knobs and dials until Stark shoved him out of the way, muttering about amateurs. 

“Private, go retrieve a uniform from Captain Rogers’ quarters,” Carter said briskly. “While you’re at it, pack up his spare uniforms and any personal effects and bring them back here.”

“He, uh… he doesn’t have quarters anymore,” Davies said. At Carter’s incredulous look, he hurried on. “He didn’t really need them, and the base has been so crowded, and--”

“Find his things and bring them here.” Carter’s voice was clipped and precise. “Or find a spare uniform, quickly. Be back here in ten minutes.”

“Yes ma’am, sir,” Davies stuttered, and hurried out of the room. 

“Think he’ll squeal on us?” Stark asked as he kicked the hose from the suction machine out of his way.

“I think we shouldn’t dawdle,” Carter replied. “Steven, are you with us?” 

“I’m not a captain,” Steve said, stuck on the one thing he’d picked out of the conversation.

“It’s a long story,” Carter said. “We need to get you standing.”

Once they’d removed the straps up to Steve’s waist, Steve found that his legs could barely support him, even with the rest of him still firmly held up by the remaining straps. His cock was still achingly hard and unbearably sensitive where it came into contact with his skin, making it hard to concentrate on stretching any feeling back into his extremities. His balls hung heavily between his legs, unsupported for once and throbbing with denied release. The muscles of his ass clenched against the unaccustomed emptiness as he moved, making him squirm and throwing off his balance. 

When Stark released the last of the straps around Steve’s chest, Steve’s legs collapsed under him. He curled between his splayed knees, pulling frantically at his cock until a flood of semen rushed over his fingers and spattered on the floor. He stared at the small puddle, a wasted and contaminated sample now, dirtying up the freshly-scrubbed tile. 

“I’m sorry,” he rasped, wiping his hand ineffectually on his thigh. He hadn’t meant to do it, not in front of Carter and Stark, when there was no scientific purpose to it, even. But now the ache in his balls had eased significantly, and he could think more clearly. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Stark said quickly. “Nothing we ain’t seen before. Can you get up?”

“Of course.” With a concerted effort, Steve was able to get his feet under him and lever himself upright, though he then had to brace his hands on his knees and breathe deeply, partly from the head rush that came from standing for the first time in weeks, and partly from the pain of his still-heavy balls being jostled. 

Carter appeared at his side with a glass of water, which Steve took gratefully. He noticed as he did that though she moved to lay a hand on his shoulder, she stopped and drew back, probably too disgusted to touch him. 

“I’ve got the spare uniform you wanted sir, ma’am.” Davies came cautiously towards Carter, bearing a stack of clothes. “No personal effects, or at least I couldn’t find any.”

“Right.” Carter shook her head. “Clean up this workspace immediately. It needs to be ready for inspection before the top brass get here.”

“The brass?” Davies’ eyes widened. “But ma’am--”

“Hop to, Private. We haven’t got all night,” Stark snapped. 

Davies scurried over to the corner to retrieve a mop and bucket. While he was busy filling his bucket with water, Carter said, sotto voce, “That ought to keep him busy, but we should hurry.”

Between bracing himself on a workbench and an occasional hand from Howard, Steve managed to wrestle his way into the uniform and skivvies the kid had brought, while Carter scrawled a note on a discarded piece of paper. 

“There.” She appeared at Steve’s side just as he was buttoning his shirt. “No one can say we didn’t give the proper notifications. We ready? Steven?”

Steve looked down to see the front of his pants bulging as his hard cock pressed against the fabric. He looked back up quickly, blushing. “Ready as I’m going to be.” 

Carter led the way out, chin up, walking briskly. She paused to hold out the folded note to Davies. “Private, deliver this to Colonel Hanes at the end of your watch. This place had better be shipshape by that time, I mean absolutely spotless, or he’ll know the reason why. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, saluting sharply. 

Carter led them through the hallways of the base with Steve leaning heavily on Stark’s arm. Through a thick steel door was a large garage with row after row of jeeps and trucks, and one shining Pontiac Torpedo with a stylized S as a hood ornament.

“Does this one fly?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, still working on that,” Stark muttered. 

Carter glanced over the rest of the garage and, apparently satisfied that no one was observing them, popped open the trunk of the car. 

“So the thing is,” Stark said as he helped Steve forward, “we need you to lay low on our way out of here. We don’t exactly have permission to take you with us.”

“You’re stealing me?” Steve pulled up short, making Stark stumble. 

“Redistributing,” Peggy said crisply. “Mr. Stark is politely requesting a location transfer for a bit of technology he’s helping to develop. Get in the trunk.”

Steve looked from the open trunk to Peggy to Stark, his sluggish mind trying to sort through the ramifications of going AWOL with these two. 

“Best not to argue with her, I’ve found,” Stark said with a shrug. 

Steve found himself smiling for the first time in recent memory, and that decided him. He wedged himself into the trunk, wincing as the cramped position put pressure on his still-hard cock and increasingly sensitive balls. Stark arranged a few small boxes to block Steve from view.

“You must be absolutely silent while we pass through the gates, understand?” Peggy said, leaning down into the trunk so she could just see him. “We’ll stop for a breather as soon as we reach a safe spot.”

“Carter, let’s go,” Stark hissed from somewhere near the front of the car. 

The trunk closed, and Steve was left in darkness.   
\--

As soon as the purring engine of the Pontiac started up, Steve knew he was in trouble. The vibrations travelled through his body, and his attention was drawn unwillingly to his tender genitals. The scientists had eliminated the vibrating feature of the mechanical phallus weeks ago, after testing determined it had no discernable impact on collection efficiency. That didn’t mean it wasn’t pleasurable. 

Steve pushed his face into his shoulder to stifle a groan. It had been so long since he’d gone for more than a few minutes without coming, and he hadn’t forgotten Dr. Keller’s dire warnings about the possibility of permanent damage if his balls weren’t drained on a strict schedule. 

He cupped himself through the borrowed uniform pants and nearly moaned with relief. He’d have to take care of this himself, without any mechanical intervention. Perhaps if he did enough to empty his balls, he wouldn’t need to do it again for a while, and could hold out until they got somewhere private. Though Carter had already seen him hooked up to the machines, Steve didn’t want to impose on her any further. 

Moving as quickly as he could, Steve turned so that his back was to the opening of the trunk, then unbuttoned his uniform pants and wriggled around until he could shove them down along with his skivvies. Once his hand was on his bare cock, however, he stalled. All of this had become so automatic in the lab, he wasn’t certain he could do it on his own. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself back there: the flat colors under the harsh lighting; the ozone and oil smell of machinery; the stale taste of recirculated air; the pressure of the leather straps against his skin; the gentle fullness of the gag filling his mouth; the delicious friction of the machine squeezing his cock; the gentle rocking as the mechanical phallus thrust into him, never quite leaving his body. He bit back a startled gasp as he spurted over his hand, pumping out enough spunk to run down his fingers and pool on the floor of the trunk.

Steve couldn’t see in the complete darkness of the confined space, but he could well imagine how he must look: pants around his knees, desperately jerking himself off not fifteen minutes after he’d already come. He could feel heat rising in his cheeks, shame creeping in where he hadn’t felt it so keenly in weeks, maybe months. That didn’t mean his hand wasn’t already stroking his cock again. 

Steve’s hand stilled on his cock as he heard voices-- perhaps they were passing through a checkpoint? He wasn’t certain how much longer they would leave him in the trunk, so he would have to make the most of this opportunity to relieve the pressure. His cock had barely softened at all, which shouldn’t have been surprising given the near-constant stimulation he was used to. A few slow strokes had him teetering on the edge again. The car rumbled back to life, sending stronger vibrations through Steve’s body, and he spilled into his hand again. 

He lost track of how many times he brought himself to climax during the drive, but his balls still felt swollen and tender, as if he’d made no progress at all in solving his overproduction problem. No matter how efficiently he tried to come, his natural abilities were no match for the technological capabilities of the setup the SSR had devised. 

At last the car eased to a stop, and the engine fell silent. At the sound of footsteps on gravel, Steve frantically pulled his pants back up and buttoned them. He shifted, turning a bit so he could see what was happening while hopefully still blocking the cooling puddle of semen from view, and wiped his hand hastily on his pant leg. 

Then came a jangle and a creak, and Stark was squinting down at him in the pale light of the moon. “You ok, Rogers?” He wrinkled his nose. “What’s that--” His eyes widened in realization. “Oh. You need a rag or something?” he asked as he lifted the boxes out of the way to let Steve clamber out.

“It’s fine,” Steve said, glad the low light hid most of his blush. “Any trouble getting us out?”

“Uh, no.” Stark gave the inside of the trunk a quick glance, then slammed it shut. “And no tail, either.”

Steve looked up and down the road, a tree-lined blacktop expanse with no buildings in sight. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so far from civilization. The crisp fall air swirled around them, carrying dry leaves in little eddies along the road and, Steve hoped, blowing away any lingering smell of sex. 

“We’re headed for a private airfield 40 miles north of here,” Carter explained as she shifted some gear around in the back seat of the car. Steve’s eyes widened as he realized that would mean being confined in a car with her for an hour or more. He glanced at Stark, who looked back at him and sighed.

Then Stark clasped his hands behind his back to hide his fidgeting. “Ms. Carter, I’m starting to think you shouldn’t come along.” 

“The hell I won’t.” She whirled on Stark, hands on her hips. “Were you planning to leave me on the side of the road here?”

“It’s not like that,” Stark muttered. “I just don’t want to trip to get uncomfortable.”

“Am I taking up too much room in your vehicle?” The venom in her voice made Steve flinch, and he knew he couldn’t let Howard take all the blame for what he was trying to do. 

“Agent Carter… It’s my fault,” Steve said, and faced the full force of her suspicious glare. “I’m… That is, I’ve…” He clenched his fists at his side to keep himself from reaching again for his dick, now aching in the too-tight confines of his pants. 

“Listen.” Stark stepped closer to Carter, lowering his voice. “They’ve been pumping him full of experimental drugs for weeks now, and they’ve got him on a strict schedule. He may have to, uh, produce some samples during the trip.”

“Oh.” Carter’s glare subsided into a thoughtful silence. “I see. Well, it’s no worse that what I’ve seen before. My sensibilities are not offended.” Then she looked at Steve. “Though, Captain Rogers, if you’d rather have the privacy--”

“It’s fine, Agent Carter.” It wasn’t fine, of course, but Steve didn’t see an alternative. They certainly couldn’t leave her here alone in the middle of nowhere. And she was right, after all. She and Stark had seen him in the lab more than once, naked and trussed up like a Christmas goose, so a little discreet relief shouldn’t be too much of a violation of Carter’s dignity. And she likely already lost whatever little respect she might have had for him. “It won’t be a problem.”

“Suit yourself.” Carter wrenched open the door of the car and gestured inside. “We had best get moving.”


	7. Chapter 7

Stark took the wheel while Steve slid gingerly into the back seat next to Carter. As soon as they pulled back onto the road, Steve realized the car’s vibrations weren’t going to be any less of a problem sitting up here than they had been in the trunk. His cock, hardening quickly, was not at all deterred by Steve’s furious attempts to think unarrousing thoughts: the smell of Brooklyn alleys in summer, the breathless pain of a hacking cough, Bucky’s ma’s cabbage soup. He needed a distraction. 

Steve leaned forward a bit, bracing his hands on his thighs to shield his tented trousers from view, then turned to Carter. “Why are you here anyway? I thought you were in Europe.”

Carter looked sharply at him for a moment, then seemed to relax, agreeing to pretend for the moment that they could have a normal conversation under these circumstances. “I was back in New York for SSR business and ran into Mr. Stark. I thought it odd that you’d never replied to my letter, so I inquired about your status. And he hadn’t heard anything about your project in weeks.”

“I don’t like being kept in the dark, especially when it’s my own technology,” Stark put in. “Besides, Erskine and I wanted to see what you could do in action, not in some lab.”

“Hence the redistribution,” Steve said. 

“We don’t exactly have what you’d call orders,” Stark said, “but what I saw in there’s enough to make me happy to take whatever heat I get for this. You doing ok back there?”

Sweat dampened Steve’s temples, and he realized his fists were clenched tightly. The ache in his balls was building again, worse than before. “I’m fine. They just had me on kind of a strict schedule, is all.”

Stark’s eyes met Steve’s in the rearview mirror, then flicked back to Carter. “Anything you can tell us about this experimental drug they were using?”

“They gave me an injection twice a day.”

“Christ,” Stark muttered.

“What exactly does the drug do?” Carter asked.

Steve looked at Stark again in the mirror, then down at his lap, where his hips were starting to rock forward involuntarily to relieve some of the pressure. He held back a hysterical laugh at thinking about his last car ride with Carter, and how unbelievable it seemed then that he’d ever be in a situation like this.

“Let’s just say it’s gonna make it impossible for him to go without release for very long until this thing works its way out of his system. That could take a day or a few weeks.” Stark shrugged extravagantly. “It’s experimental. He’s experimental. No one has any idea.” 

“I see,” Carter said after a moment. The road rolled away behind them for a few miles. Then Carter pulled in a deep breath and said, “Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it but for you to continue doing what’s necessary. We’re an hour at least from the airfield, and it sounds as if you’ll do yourself harm if you ignore the problem.” She turned a sharp gaze on Steve. “And if you think you’re going to be stoic and prideful and make me have to explain to Colonel Phillips why I allowed you to be injured, I will be intensely irritated. We may have taken you without permission, but I intend to deliver you intact and unharmed.”

“But…” Steve’s protest died under Carter’s severe look.

“Like I said,” Stark put in. “Best not to argue.”

“Stark, your job is to keep the car on the road and your eyes forward,” Carter snapped. “Steve, you had better do whatever it is that will help.”

Steve nodded and squeezed his eyes shut. He thought perhaps he should protest more strongly, but the ache in his balls was becoming severe, and he hadn’t forgotten the electric prod they’d used to introduce a climax whenever his sac had been too tender or swollen to bear touching. He hadn’t reached that point yet, but it wasn’t far off. And without any of the lab equipment, he was entirely on his own. 

Steve cupped himself through his pants and gritted his teeth. This was just another aspect of his duty, and as Carter had said, he couldn’t let pride keep him from it. He couldn’t possibly hold out until they reached their destination, and if he had to subject Carter and Stark to this, better that it happened when he had some control left, and he had some hope of being relatively discreet. 

Without looking around, Steve unbuttoned his pants and slid a hand inside and into his skivvies. Holding back a sigh from the relief that brought, Steve tried to put himself back in the mindset he’d used in the trunk. The scene of the lab came back to him easily enough, so vivid he could have painted it. He’d been doing essentially this same routine nonstop for weeks, so it shouldn’t be difficult. Except, of course, in a lab, where machines had been doing all the work, no one could have argued that the operation was for Steve’s own selfish gratification. It was still a sin, yes, but one undertaken for the good of his country. This, however, would benefit no one but himself. 

As his face flushed an even deeper pink, Steve pictured the stern look on Carter’s face. It was her duty to bring him back safe, and he wouldn’t be any good to the Army if he injured himself like this: not even in combat, but in mulishly refusing a painless medical procedure in order to spare his pride. It had to be done. 

Grimly, he set his jaw and began tugging determinedly at his cock. If anything, he seemed to soften somewhat under his hand. His balls throbbed with every pulse of his heartbeat, but the predominant sensations were tipping from pleasure over into pain. Once that happened, Steve wasn’t certain he could bring himself off. He squeezed his cock in a punishing grip and let out a frustrated grunt. 

“Steven?” Carter raised an eyebrow at him. She was holding a briefcase on her lap, open and stuffed with paperwork from the lab. “It’s not surprising that after the procedures they were using, you’d have difficulty reaching climax on your own.”

“I can manage,” he gritted out.

“I’m certain you could,” Carter said, a bit drily. “It might help to think about what you found arousing previously. Before these procedures began, what did you do to bring yourself pleasure?”

“Cheee-rist,” Stark muttered from the front seat. 

“That will be quite enough, Mr. Stark.”

“Well, here.” Stark fumbled in the glove box for a moment, then tossed a rag into the back seat. “Just don’t ruin the upholstery.”

Carter passed Steve the rag without sparing a glance for Stark. Her voice was steady and unhurried. “Steven, you must relax. Picture yourself somewhere else. A place you feel comfortable. A place where you find it easy to let your guard down.”

Steve couldn’t look at her. He closed his eyes and tried to picture it. His narrow bed in his room in Brooklyn. A hot August afternoon, sticky air, him bare chested and lying on top of the sheets. The window open to a lazy breeze, and the sounds of the city drifting in. 

“What did you think about, when you were there? What did you imagine doing? Who do you see when you close your eyes?”

Bucky, grinning up at him from the foot of the bed. His strong hands gripping under Steve’s thighs to drag him to where Bucky could get his mouth around Steve. The hot, sweet pressure of his lips and tongue. 

“What does it feel like, when you imagine the woman you’re with?”

Steve’s hand squeezed suddenly around his cock, a sharp increase in his building discomfort. He dug his teeth into his lip as the memory of Bucky vanished. The pleasure that had been building evaporated like morning mist. There was no way Stark and Carter could know what he’d been thinking, but the part of him in charge of his libido wasn’t so certain. He certainly couldn’t try that again, not in front of company.

He let out a long, slow breath and shook his head. “Agent Carter, the way they’ve got me trained, I’m not sure something nice is going to work. I mean, thank you for trying, but….”

“I see,” Carter said quietly. “Perhaps you need to recall your recent environment instead, try to recall the circumstances under which you were conditioned.”

“Maybe.” Steve looked down at his lap instead of meeting her eyes. There was no maybe about it. It had worked in the trunk after all. And perhaps that’s how it would always be for Steve from now on: finding release only from the memory or the reality of that industrial process, the pinnacle of masturbatory technology for this body that was itself the pinnacle of scientific achievement. “That might work.”

“All right.” Carter gave him a moment to settle back in his seat and close his eyes again. “Picture yourself in the laboratory. Recall how you were positioned. How the leather straps felt against your skin. The sound and rhythm of the machines.”

That memory came easily to mind, as it had before. Steve could almost feel the mechanical phallus pushing into him, the wet slide of the suction machine. A face appeared in his mind: Nurse Rathjen, her delighted smirk as tightened the straps of his gag, never looking away from his face. 

With a surprised grunt, he spilled into his hand. He only just brought the rag up in time to avoid dripping on the floor. 

As Steve gulped in air, he realized that was the only sound in the car. He stared at his lap, cheeks blazing, but didn’t dare let go of his dick. He could already feel the pressure building again. A quick glance revealed that Carter had returned to reading papers from the briefcase, but she met his eyes and gave him a quick nod. 

“You had better carry on,” she said. “We’ll get your attention if there’s anything you need to know. Mr. Stark, what do you know about these references to genetic material refinement?”

Grateful to be reprieved from their attention, Steve turned once more to the task of bringing himself off. His mind drifted, as it often had when he was hooked up to the machines. At one point, Carter set a clean handkerchief on the seat next to him, and a little later Steve was aware they’d paused at a stop sign, but for the most part, Steve stayed in his own world. 

Occasionally, scraps of conversation reached him, washing over him as the nurses’ chatter had done when he’d been strapped down and gagged. 

“Well, there’s no sign in flashing lights that says a Hydra agent infiltrated the lab.”

“I’d argue that the adamant refusal to authorize him for any other assignment is itself suspicious.”

And later:

“Have you seen the paperwork for the comic strips and the advertising campaign? They’d already invested in other work for him.”

“National tour, war bonds, yeah, yeah. But after this, what, were they gonna hook him up to the machines at county fairs and sell tickets?”

“He was meant to be a symbol. That’s the potential Senator Brandt saw.”

“Carter, I don’t care about symbols. We built the Sherman tank of soldiers. We need to point him at the enemy.”

And after that:

“No, Howard. We haven’t time to stop. I’m sure one of the stewardesses would be happy to serve you dinner on the plane. I’m not hungry at the least.”  
\--

“Steven, we’re here.”

Steve looked up to see the purple light of dawn spreading over an airfield. Stark’s car was parked next to a plane with a uniformed attendant standing patiently at the top of the stairs. Steve looked down to see his boots, the floor of the car, and the back of the seat in front of him shiny with drying semen. 

Carter stood holding open the car door, looking down at him. “Never mind that. Can you walk?”

Steve quickly tucked his slightly softened cock back into his pants and nodded. “Where are we going?”

“Italy,” Carter said as she led the way towards the plane. “To the SSR forward headquarters there. Once you’re there, Colonel Phillips have no excuse not to put you on active duty.” She paused and turned back to Steve. “Assuming that’s what you want. If you’d rather we--”

“I’ve never been on a plane before,” Steve said, looking past Carter up to where Stark was already ducking inside. 

“Well, there are many things you haven’t done yet.” Carter gave him a small smile. “You were meant for more than this, you know.”

Steve surreptitiously wiped his hand on his pant leg, then straightened his back. “I can do whatever they need me to do.”

“As you’ve ably demonstrated. We had better get aboard. I’ll make sure you get some privacy for the trip.”

“Agent Carter,” Steve said, and she turned to regard him evenly. “Thank you for getting me out.”

“You can thank me by proving me right about you. Come along,” she said, as she ushered him up the stairs to start his journey.


End file.
